A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys!

Grissom slammed on the gas pedal as hard as he could. His palms were sweaty, his knuckles were turning white from how tight the grip he had on the steering wheel was. Veins were popping out of his forehead and his teeth were gritted. His pulse was racing as he drove up to the address Brass had given him over the phone.

He was sitting in his office doing paperwork when the sound of his phone ringing made him jump. Turning his stereo down, he reached for his phone in his pocket and picked it up. He looked at the caller ID- Brass. Sighing, he flipped his phone open and took his glasses off, putting them down on the desk in front of him as he answered the phone. "Grissom."

"Gil, you better get over here."

"...Where?"

"Sara's crime-scene."

"...What's going on? Is everything alright?" Grissom asked, concerned. He had sent her over to a scene in Henderson. Four-nineteen, nothing they hadn't already seen before. There was an officer over there, he thought she would be okay by herself.

"...Gil...the suspect was still at the house."

Grissom froze as the words entered his brain. "...What? Didn't an officer clear the house?" he asked, trying to hide the anger in his voice.

"Yes..." Brass sighed. "He hid in the closet. Over-powered her, she didn't have much of a chance."

Grissom swallowed hard, trying to get images of possible things that could have happened out of his mind. "...Is...she okay?"

"We're waiting for an ambulance right now," Brass said. "But...she's in pretty bad shape."

"Hang on, Sara," Grissom whispered, jumping out of his car. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he didn't even grab his keys as he ran up to the house. A quick flash of his badge gained him entry into the house, and he ran inside, looking around. "Brass!" he yelled. "Sara!"

The inside of the house was empty, cold and dusty. There was old furniture covered with dust and cobwebs. Walking further through the house, he spotted a staircase and he heard the faint sound of Brass talking on his radio. He quickly ran up the stairs, each floorboard creaking as he made it to the top of the stairs.

"Brass!" he yelled, looking around.

"Over here," Brass said quietly. Grissom quickly ran to the left, determing that was the direction his voice was coming from. As he rounded the corner, Grissom's breath caught in his throat.

Just looking at the hallway leading to the room was already giving him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A few feet in front of him lay Sara's open kit. Her print powder container lay on the floor beside her kit, the cap off of it. The brush lay discarded at the foot of the wall where she had begin to dust for prints, he could see the tape lift she was using.

Looking down at the floor a foot away from her kit, he saw her CSI vest laying on the floor. The straps that formed the sleeves had been cut, which only seemed to confirm his suspicions of what happened more and more. Walking over to the door, Grissom took a deep breath, getting prepared for the sight he was about to see.

He rounded the corner and looked inside. His breath caught in his throat. The sight he saw did not look like anyone he had ever seen in his life, let alone Sara.

Sara was laying on the floor, flat on her back. Her face was drained of color except for the mottle of purple and black around her left cheek and her lip. Her shirt was ripped open, revealing her laced bra. Her slacks were unfastened, though they were still securely around her waist. Looking up, Grissom saw his biggest concern. A small trail of blood was dripping down the floor, but from where? Her neck.

Grissom immediately kneeled down beside her, holding onto her hand. She looked up at him with fear-filled eyes as she held a cloth to her neck. Grissom slowly moved his hand toward the her other, removing the cloth for a minute to see how bad the cut was. He winced when he saw it- it didn't look like it had nicked an artery, but it still looked pretty bad to the naked eye.

Grissom slowly set her arm down at her side, replacing her hand with his as he applied pressure to the wound on her neck. She winced, opening her mouth to speak.

"Don't try and talk, Sara," Grissom told her. "The paramedics are going to be here soon," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "You're going to be okay, I promise."

"Gr...Gri..Gris..som," Sara whispered, looking over at him.

"Please don't talk, Sara," Grissom whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"...I..lo..love...you.." Sara whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly.

"...I love you, too," Grissom whispered, holding back a sob as the ambulance arrived.